Shinobinaku
by LittleHellion
Summary: Shinobinaku, to shed silent tears. A study of Shikamaru in the shape of a love story. Use your imagination as to who's speaking...could be Ino or Temari.


Disclaimer: The Naruto world and characters don't belong to me.

_Shinobinaku - _**to shed silent tears**

The first time we met, I felt it. The connection between us. I was a loudmouth, and he was Konoha's notorious 'lazy ass;' not exactly a perfect match. But sometimes, I liked to be lazy. I just never told him.

We didn't quite get along at first. At first glance, we were too different. Our relationship was merely one of mutual tolerance, spawned by circumstance. But I knew. I knew that we'd find each other, and keep finding each other, until the unspoken kink in our (could we call it friendship?) was smoothed out.

I admired him, that was certain. He had no problem doing as he pleased. He _was _lazy, yes, but he wasn't the only one to make chuunin for nothing. The time we spent together increased, and my admiration turned into respect…

Which finally turned into love.

I clearly remember the first time I told him. I dragged him to his favorite spot – with an eagerness I'm _sure _did not go unnoticed – and lay down next to him. We lay there in silence for a while…he, because it was his way, and I, because I wanted to find the right words.

I gave up after a while; after all, a rehearsed speech will always sound like what it is: a rehearsed speech. I sat up and pulled him up with me, smiling at the mumbled _"Mendoukusai" _ I'd come to love.

I told him I had something to tell him; he just looked at me expectantly, most likely wishing I would just hurry up and get it over with so he could go back to watching the sky roll past in waves of blue and white.

I blustered around for a bit, but finally, I just blurted it out.

"I love you."

I hadn't expected a reaction. After all, he wasn't famous for walking around with his heart on his sleeve. An indulgent smile, at most…but I expected another _mendoukusai _and then more silent sky gazing. He would answer me in his own way; his own time, when he had thought through everything. He _needed _to think everything through. It was the way he dealt with life.

I hadn't expected him to kiss me, but he did. I hadn't expected him to hold me close, but he did. I hadn't expected him to whisper that he loved me too…but he did.

And then he added with a half-hearted grumble that it was too bothersome not to like me.

But I knew; that connection, that spark I'd felt, was finally exposed.

I shed silent tears after we went our separate ways; relieved tears. I had finally gotten what I hadn't known I needed.

I took to spending my free time watching the clouds with him – or, rather, watching him watch the clouds. He was beautiful when at peace, and I loved the quiet reflection in his eyes.

He didn't just watch the clouds because he was lazy; it was another coping skill. It was a time he could think, a time he could puzzle out the conflicts in his life.

I remember the first time we slept side by side. We were at his favorite spot. Sunset came and went, but we decided not to move…we were both comfortable, and neither of us needed to wake up early. It was a hot day, and he'd removed his shirt. I know he saw me staring, but I didn't mind.

As he drifted off to sleep, I placed little kisses here and there – his firm chest, his collarbone, his jaw line. His only response was a hand around my shoulders and even breathing.

We _did _marry. It was tradition. I understood his need to have everything _just so. _Another coping mechanism, another way to be in control of his surroundings in a time of uncertainty. He really wasn't made for the life of a Shinobi, but I couldn't see him doing anything else. The tears running down my face were a silent manifestation of happiness.

On our wedding night, we started working on the family we both wanted. I remember lying in the hazy afterglow, content to run my fingers through his hair and memorize his scent from my perch on his shoulder. I liked that feeling; apparently, he did too, because we spent a lot of time like that.

I would sometimes amuse myself by wondering if he still liked cloud watching better. Truth be told, I think he did…but that didn't matter to me. We were _us _now. Me and my husband, him and his wife. I was _never _the docile woman he had dreamed about during childhood, but he chose _me._

When he found out that our first pregnancy was twin girls, I expected him to grumble about being surrounded by women (just for the sake of our traditions), but he surprised me again.

He didn't say _anything, _but the unshed tears in his eyes told me enough.

_I love you. We have a family. We are complete._

And we were.

It was some years later – our daughters were six – when he was called into the Hokage tower to receive a mission. C-class; a relatively simple mission for his team.

It was _not _a class-C mission.

The teammate that survived dragged him back to me, barely alive and battered. For the first time, I was frightened of being alone. I had loved him – I _still _loved him – we had children together – he was too _young! _

The look on his teammate's face reminded me of the days after his first mission as a chuunin. Self-doubt, fear, sadness. I watched with silent tears in my eyes as our daughters cried at his funeral, and kept an eye on his teammate.

Afterward, I pulled him aside and told him about my husband's first failed mission, and asked him to remember the great Shinobi he'd been. I was glad to see the boy change.

I always remembered _my _lazy-ass. I entertained our daughters with stories about him, even after they entered the Academy. I had never wanted to be a housewife, and I had never pictured being anything but a ninja. But for the sake of our daughters, I took a spot teaching at the Academy as soon as he died.

I still work there today, even though our daughters have grown and are constantly taking missions themselves.

I know I should worry about them, but I don't. This is the life they chose for themselves; it is the life I chose for myself, and the life _he _chose for _himself. _Shinobi life is dangerous, and most accept missions _knowing _there's a chance they won't come back.

And my job, as a teacher, is to make sure our prospective ninja _know _what they are getting into. Hopefully, they will let go of their romantic notions – _missions will be fun, and I will always win – _and see Shinobi life for what it truly is. Sacrifice.

No one goes to his favorite spot any more; no one but me. I like to lie there, hands clasped behind my head, remembering.

Remembering the first time we kissed, the first time we spent the night with each other…the day he proposed to me. _That _had been amusing…but I loved him.

I always will love him.

When I would pass the time with him, I saw peace in his precious clouds.

I still do.

It's peace in the shape of his face.


End file.
